Paradise
by wicked-nachos-09
Summary: It was an accident really. You hadn't meant to go looking for her at all, but somehow you had found her like a deer caught in the headlights at the end of your driveway. Rewrite. Eventual Fayana
1. Chapter 1

Okay, Paradise 2.0. Let's try this again. So this is the development of Fayana after Faye's grandfather dies. Will be references to other episodes, once I get around to rewatching them. Enjoy.

/

It was an accident, really.

You hadn't meant to go looking for her at all, but somehow you had found her like a deer caught in the headlights at the end of your driveway. You had barely gotten to the brake in time, as you skidded on the wet pavement. It was late and it had been raining on and off all night. You had just stormed out of the house after an argument with your father about being responsible.

"Faye!" you yelled, getting out of your car and effectively blocking your father in. You barely got to her in time before she could walk into the darkness and impending storm. "Faye!"

You barely got through to her, and in the dim light streaming from your porch lets you see the redness around her eyes. You're pretty sure that she's going to get sick after walking around in the rain and from the stress of finding her grandfather dead in the lake behind his house.

It takes a minute but the rain begins to drop and within seconds your hair is plastered to your face. She doesn't put up a fight when you stop a measly attempt of walking away, and there is even less resistance when you pull her towards the porch. You don't want to go inside, but you really need some towels to dry both of you off and her lips were turning blue.

You sit her down on the front porch swing and when you're convinced that she isn't going anywhere, you run inside, grab a couple towels from the downstairs linen closet and wrap three around her shoulders and one around your own.

"Diana, what are you-," came through the suddenly open door from your father as he took in the two of you sitting there on the swing. He swallowed hesitantly and said to you quietly, "I'll let her mother know that she's here."

"Don't make me leave," were the first words you had heard from her since you saw her mother tuck her into the car and drive off. You had been sitting on the swing for nearly fifteen minutes when a silver sedan pulls up.

"What?" you ask curiously.

"Please don't make me go with her." You tuck some damp hair behind her ear and realise that she's practically begging you. The one thing that you never thought you would see was Faye Chamberlain begging you, Diana Meade, for anything. Her bottom lip slips out and starts to shake. "We got into a fight about ... my... Please don't make me go."

"Okay," you agree instantly, your eyes connecting at the same time as your hands. It's only broken when the front door snaps shut behind you and her head snaps down. "She can stay in my room."

You don't even realise that you've said it, or that you've stood up from your seat next to her to face a rather stressed looking school principle. The look you give you father makes him agree with you without argument and ushers the two of you inside to have a talk with his 'girlfriend'. Just as you close the door behind you, you hear Dawn thanking your father and what sounded like a rather hushed reminder coming back in return.

You ignore them and the thoughts in your head, coaxing the brunette towards you room so she can have a hot shower.

/


	2. Chapter 2

/

It took longer than you thought it would.

By the time three o'clock in the morning rolls around and the recently descended fully-fledged storm shows no sign on letting up anytime soon, she's still awake. You've been sitting there against the headboard for at least four hours, in almost complete silence, every now and then letting your fingers sift through her dark hair.

She's buried in your warmest hoodie, and wrapped in your arms, and you can see the fatigue and emotional exhaustion beginning to set in on the witch's face in the poor light. You had left your closet light on so she could see where she was going. In hindsight, you realise that she probably won't move from her current position.

Still, she doesn't close her eyes. She's too busy trying not let the grip she has on you falter.

"You need to sleep," you whisper, scared that if you speak too loud, you will spook her, and that she'll realise that it's _your _house and _your_ bed that she's in before running off wearing _your_ clothes.

She doesn't vocalise a reply, only shaking her head into the shoulder of the t-shirt you were wearing to bed.

"Please?" you ask, adding some pressure to your fingers as nails scratch scalp lightly. Her eyes droop, and she looks up at you to attempt a world famous 'Faye Chamberlain glare'. It doesn't work.

She jumps when there's a knock at your closed bedroom door, and you nearly find yourself face to face with her. The grip around your middle tightens momentarily, as if she's scared it's her mother ready to take her home even though it's becoming apparent that she really doesn't want to leave.

"Don't make me leave."

"You're not going anywhere."

It's your father. Apparently he had been awake this whole time. Your glare, however, is still in perfect condition and aimed in his direction when a mention of Henry comes from his mouth; an offering of his condolences. It then dawns on you that you're not going to get any sleep at all because tears are streaming, wracking the brunette's body with violent shakes.

As you silently thank your father with angry sarcasm, watching as he backs out of your room, he says that she can stay as long as she wants.

Your attempts to calm her have a weak effect, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

She's a solitary creature, refusing to let others see her break, or show anything other than a bad arse reputation. You were the one she had chosen to see her softer side. You didn't want to fuck it up.

/


	3. Chapter 3

/

It's close to noon on Sunday when you finally wake up.

She had burrowed into your side sometime around four-thirty once most of the tears and hiccups had subsided, and now she was half-hidden behind the hood of your Washington State sweatshirt. The gray sky become lighter but refused to let the sun poke its way through the clouds. When you open your eyes you're met with a curtain of dark brown hair obscuring your vision.

If it was possible, the two of you, who rarely got along on a good day, were closer than you ever thought physically possible. Sometime during your sleep, you had shifted down, or she had shifted up and you'd lost a pillow or two. There was some entanglement of limbs near the end of your bed and linked fingers stretched out to your side, and you couldn't be more comfortable.

With forehead against temple, you can feel the beginning of a fever coming on for the younger girl when she shuffles just that little closer. If you move, because your self-confessed sickness cure is in the kitchen, there is a guarantee that you'll wake her up. And after the last emotionally draining twenty-four hours, you decide that sleep is probably the best thing for her.

At least, she wasn't crying.

It takes you a moment before you fully extract yourself from her grip and you mentally remind yourself to thank your father silently for shutting your curtains last night because the lightening was distracting you. Standing next to your bed, you can see a bright red nose peeking out from behind the wall of hair and the side of the hood. You press an umpteenth numbered kiss to her forehead, grab your thickest dressing gown and disappear into the hall.

You're halfway through with making something to eat for both of you when her voice sounds from behind you along with a few sniffles. You turn startled, even though you know she is the only other person in the house – your father had left for work several hours before according to the note on the fridge.

"You said you weren't going anywhere," she whispers hoarsely.

"I figured that I would get the essentials and come back up. You're getting sick," you say with a small smile.

With tousled hair, red rimmed eyes and a serious case of the sniffles, she looks smaller than usual. She's tired and exhausted but it will only get worse if she doesn't eat something, so when she says that she's not hungry, you feel like a parent bartering with a child on how many bites they have to eat before they can leave the table.

You manage to compromise on half a piece of toast and a cup of your all-sickness-curing honey tea before she looks a shade closer to normal than she does pale. Leaving the dishes in the sink, you round the centre island and hug her from behind.

It was an automatic response to her sinking into the embrace and nibbling on your piece of peanut butter toast. Your lips met her neck, purely for comforting reasons. You found the tilt of her head a little surprising, but considering her touchy-feely nature in any kind of intimate situation, it didn't quite shock you.

It made you that little bit more curious when she held up your breakfast so you could take a bite.

/


	4. Chapter 4

/

It is three more days of waking up to her before she actually leaves.

It was an experience, you tell yourself. Having the big and the bad Faye Chamberlain in your bed for three days with a nasty cold, grieving for her late grandfather, cuddling up to you while wearing your clothes. There had been a few times of drawn out streaming tears and body wracking sobs that ended in her falling asleep on your shoulder. When she was pushing you away desperately, it usually started from a nightmare, screaming for you to leave her alone, but you flat out refused until she woke up.

"It's okay," you would chant, clinging, almost hoping if you chanted long enough some magic would spark and her pain would go away instantaneously.

In the mornings, she would wake up slowly and apologise for keeping you up all night, spotting the growing bags under your eyes. You brush it off and sink into the covers a little further. They were a drug, these sleepless nights you found yourself having.

No, it wasn't the sleepless nights; it was what you found yourself doing during the night, watching her, watching over her. She was the drug and you were hooked and it scared you how easily you found yourself forgetting about the _boy_ you loved for four years.

You felt so proud for being the one that could calm her down, send her off to sleep, to be the one she had become so comfortable around to the point where you were always attached one way or another.

You had spent the passing days playing hooky and avoiding phone calls and text messages from the circle, and her mother because this little world had been created in your room, for just the two of you, was better than the reality outside the four walls. There was a little magic performed, but nothing to heavy that it would start a heated debate about power. Just spells small enough to keep her distracted, and focused on you.

She even smiled once or twice and something swelled inside of you.

You were standing in the middle of your room, rather close, palms and fingers almost toughing. Sparks, blue lightning bolts zipped between the tips of your fingers, connecting the two of you for a quick moment before she broke the surge out of shock.

It was lucky because your father walked in and announced her mother's arrival, and that's when you realised the time and how hungry you were and how much it was going to suck not being able to wake up to her anymore.

When she hugged you and shrugged off her mother on the way to the car, your eyes followed them until they disappeared around the corner. Faye had actually thanked you for something, before leaving you to dine alone with your dad instead of in your room with her. Something was missing, and it didn't quite feel right.

You didn't like it one bit, but you swallowed it anyway and smiled through a meal with your father, casually joining in on mindless chit chat automatically. You couldn't focus properly. That's when you came to understand withdrawal symptoms first hand and excused yourself from the table.

You needed another fix. And soon.

/


	5. Chapter 5

/

You hadn't expected your next hit to come so soon.

It was Friday night, and you hadn't seen her since she left. You didn't have the courage to ask her mother how she was doing, but only because you had under minded her about her daughter staying at your house. The rare text message had been sent from your phone, and if rare meant twenty-seven, then so be it. She hadn't been in class to keep Adam at bay and giving you an excuse to avoid him after the mistake you made with him, and you couldn't help but wonder if she missed your company as much as you did hers.

Since becoming recently single, your Friday nights had become a solitary adventure in the depths of your education, spreading out across the floor of your bedroom to finish your assignments and get a head start on the next ones.

That was until your phone buzzed across the floorboards next to you, startling you from your trance.

It was from her. _'Come over?'_

_'Now?'_ It was getting later and later and the idea of stepping outside in the cold made you almost say no.

_'Please?'_ In your head, was the image of Faye, pulling the puppy dog eyes in an innocent way that you would never see in actual reality, unless innocent included a sexual connotation. Your phone buzzed again. _'I need you.'_

_'Your mother?' _you ask, your heart in your throat as you waited for the reply. She hadn't been too happy with you, automatically siding with her daughter and making her into the bad guy.

_'Asleep. Use the window. Knock twice.'_

That last one kind of got you. Use the window? The same way she and Adam used to use each other's window? It was a Friday night, shouldn't the circle's resident bad girl be sneaking out, instead of the goody-two shoes sneaking in? You gulped and reluctantly agreed.

You father was still up, watching one of his shows in the living room. You tossed a 'going to hang out with Melissa and Cassie' over your shoulder and left your house before he could protest.

When you arrive fifteen minutes later, having parked down the street so her mother wouldn't know, her bedroom light isn't on, but as soon as you pull out your phone, a stream of yellowing light shines out in the darkness.

You, Diana Meade, were climbing the lattice underneath Faye Chamberlain's bedroom window well after your curfew to most likely cuddle with her. While the concept struck you as odd, you didn't mind the idea. It was an addiction and you didn't care how you got your next fix, as long as you got it.

Two knocks just like she said, and the window pane was lifted so fast that you thought you fight fall.

"You came," she said, helping you through the window with a look of shock on her face. Her voice is still a little raspier than normal, and you didn't think that your addiction could become any more addictive.

"I said I wouldn't, didn't I?" you smirk, flicking your shoes off so you don't wake the woman down the hall.

Before you can get yourself any further into the inner sanctum, her arms are around you and she's mumbling into your shoulder about how she's missed you. When you turn, it's too see how pale her face, how puffy red her eyes are and how big the circles are underneath, how tiny she looks in your Washington State hoodie as your fingers fumble with the pockets edges.

"I'm never gonna get this back, am I?"

She shakes her head with a smile and pulls you towards the bed for get some sleep. You're thankful that you were wearing sweats when you got her message.

"I missed this," she says, once again burying herself into your side. "I haven't been able to sleep without you."

"Yeah, I missed you too."

It was going to be another sleepless night, you knew it. But you didn't have school the next day, so you kind of didn't care. What you did care about was who you would be waking up to in the morning.

/


	6. Chapter 6

/

When you wake up, you're pretty sure that you've overdosed.

It's like you can't breathe; you're suffocating.

The common theme you've discovered when waking up next to her is that she likes to cuddle. She _really_ likes to cuddle and you're a little unsure if she's like that with everyone, if she's unknowingly seeking comfort as she sleeps, or if she is using sharing a bed as an excuse to wriggle a little closer to you. As much as you crave the closeness, it's becoming almost unbearable.

The nagging tiredness is definitely present as you rub your eyes free of its clutches when you feel her body begin to move and stretch and for a moment she's a mere inch away. You suck in a breath in a feeble attempt to put some distance between you. It doesn't work because she grapples for you and tightens her grip and kisses you good morning before bunking back down to sleep.

She kissed you. And she didn't even realise it.

It scares you more than the idea of witch hunters looking to kill you.

You had to get out of there. But a knock on the door from her mother stops you before you can hide so you do the first logical thing you can think of: you pretend to be asleep. You can hear the footsteps of heeled boots on the wooden floor stop abruptly on their way into the room, and the sudden ending of a sentence that referred to last minute funeral arrangements. Henry's funeral was on Sunday, and that was tomorrow.

There is a beat where there is no movement, not a sound in the room aside from the breathing sounds coming from the girl next to you, and you're pretty sure that you've been busted.

Until her mother turns almost silently and leaves the room. You still can't breathe. It's getting too hot.

She's still asleep when you free yourself from her with growing frustration because the covers tangled around your legs refuse to let you out. A car engine roars in the driveway, before humming off on its way down the street. The two of you were alone.

You didn't have a problem with girls liking girls, you considered yourself to be rather open minded about everything. What you were having trouble understanding was the feelings _you_ were having for another girl, so soon after the end of a four year relationship with a guy.

You grab your shoes on the way and all but run out, and you're sure that you can hear her mumbling your name by the time you reach the stairs, followed by some rustling of bed covers and a louder, raspy voice.

"Diana?"

By the time you reach your car half a dozen houses down, her desperate calls are ringing in your ears.

How were you supposed to face her at the funeral after running out in a nervous huff?

/


	7. Chapter 7

/

You needed something to distract you.

Homework wasn't enough. Magic wasn't enough. Even pretending to pine over your ex-boyfriend while locked in your room wasn't enough. She had called and texted, but since the funeral, you had successfully managed to obviously avoid her. If anyone had noticed, no one said anything.

For the first time in a long time, you felt confused. You didn't know what to do other than to run away but that wasn't exactly an option.

With the funeral behind you all, and Faye's behaviour growing just a little more desperate and unpredictable, throwing yourself into the fundraiser was the first thing you could think of to avoid speeding off into the horizon. But even you couldn't have one normal night, flirting and dancing and giggling with someone you could tell was interested in you.

Despite the fact that you weren't entirely interested in him. Just the idea of the attention you were getting.

You caught her glaring a few times across the rooms as you danced a slow dance with the cousin of a friend. At him? Or at you?

You were distracted by her. Again.

You see the girl you may like, because of one kiss she doesn't even remember, and the boy you thought you loved whispering in a corner and it's an odd comparison in your mind as you're being dragged out of the party when you can't find the two newest members of your circle.

There's a traitor in the mix, and it's another long night but not for the reasons you want, and you get to the docks just in time to see the boy play the hero and get closer to getting the girl, as the traitor sailed off into the night.

"Did I do something?" she asks, after you drop her best friend home and now you're alone with her. You can hear the fear in her voice; you're the only one she would ever let hear it.

"What?" you mumble back, pretending to leave you focus on the road.

"You've been avoiding me for the past week. What did I do?"

You gulp, and hesitate and she calls you on it.

"Diana!"

As soon as you stop your car, you're out on the sidewalk waiting for her. "You didn't do anything," you lie.

"Then why haven't you answered my calls, or my texts? I need you."

You do a double take and hope that she doesn't notice that. _I need you. _You tell another lie, understanding the silent connotations your words held.

"I guess it all just hit me on Saturday. _I figured out that I like you and it scares me._ Everything that's going on. _Witch hunters and traitors and break-ups and death._ I'm sorry."

Your apology is genuine and so is the hug that follows and you melt into the embrace because knowing the brunette the way you do, you think that this current attitude won't become a permanent feature. Standing under the porch light in front of her red front door, you can't help yourself.

Honesty was always something your prided yourself on, and you figure if you put your foot in your mouth that you've been hanging out with her too much. You don't mind that last part, but foot-in-mouth wasn't a common Diana Meade trait.

So you keep your mouth shut, and suffer in silence as you find yourself being spooned by a certain brunette wearing your Washington State hoodie to bed.

You wonder if she has noticed the difference in your behaviours towards each other. At one time, you would avoid going anywhere near each other unless magic was involved. One was the epitome of selfish carelessness and the other logic and reason. Ying and Yang. And now you were cuddling. Diana Meade plus Faye Chamberlain never equaled cuddling. More like World War III.

"Don't run out on me in the morning."

The chuckle you muster up is purely for display, as you settle in against her, eyes wide and try to find a distraction to make your way through the night.

It's three hours later and you're still awake when you realise that the weight of her arm around your waist is distracting you from finding something to distract yourself with.

You learn that distractions don't always help, that they don't always come easily, but any more effort and you're sure that you'll put yourself into a coma.

Her arm tightens. Fuck.

/


	8. Chapter 8

/

It's just after winter break when the sudden changes shocks you worse than running in the snow in your shortest shorts.

You had expected her to play it up. Teasing was her thing; a habit or a reflex that she had honed over the years that simply resulted in well-timed childish comments that got on everybody's nerves regardless of who they were actually aimed at.

You just hadn't expected her to ignore you or the fact that it had happened so easily.

You had used the excuse of the dreary weather and her still relatively vulnerable emotional state to cuddle with her and get homework done in front of the fireplace in your living room. Yes, Faye Chamberlain actually understood the concept of and completed her set homework each week, maintaining at least a B plus in every class.

Not that she could admit it to any of her peers. She did have a 'bad girl' reputation to uphold after all.

For those two weeks, when she wasn't with Melissa and avoiding the recently returned Jake and you weren't with the girl your ex was now chasing, the two of you were practically inseparable. Every other night you would stay at hers, and then on the alternate nights, she would climb into your bed, and half a dozen times, you had ducked yourself into a booth at Java Brew just to get out of the house. There was the occasional resurfacing of still painful memories and a few sleepless nights, but you weren't bothered.

Until your bubble burst and it was ruined and you have no idea how it was blown to smithereens in the first place. You could tell that she had caught on to the difference in behaviour you had towards her. You weren't as comfortable with exactly how close your cuddling was. It was nagging at the back of your mind every minute of every day, with or without her buried into your side.

You didn't want to seem obvious but you were beginning to go a little stir crazy.

Your unofficial plan of just trying to act casual would have worked too, except the fact that you were being rather obvious to the Queen of sexual connotations herself.

On the morning of the last Friday of your break, you had found yourselves dancing around your kitchen to a playlist you had pulled from her phone, the task of achieving pancakes for breakfast coming along slowly. That was when the two steps forwards you had made with convincing her of a genuine friendship went three spaces back. You were the one to cry yourself to sleep afterwards because you were sure that you had lost her. She was smiling and laughing so effortlessly since Henry and it had to be contagious. You couldn't help but to smile and laugh along with her.

You were supposed to duck this way and she was supposed to duck that was, but you both ducked or you both weaved (you forget which) and the next thing you could comprehend was the feeling on her fingers digging into your hips as you pushed back just as firmly while she pinned you against the edge of the counter. She was kissing you and you knew that she knew it as well. It couldn't be one sided. It just couldn't. It was hard to tell who had initiated it, you bother just seemed to gravitate towards each other.

It was better than just fireworks.

A tongue slipped past your lips and you cupped her cheeks. Sweeter than you had imagined and more satisfying than anything you had ever experienced. Your Faye-induced haze was quick to blanket your senses, and you barely got to the stove in time before the two of you were stumbling up the stairs, peeling clothes desperately and silently thanking whoever that your father wasn't home.

Your bed had never felt so comfortable as it had been with her on top of you; when you flipped her over and shifted slightly to receive a raspy groan.

Fingers twisted together.

Small nips that would certainly leave a bruise or maybe two.

Trails of kisses between the valley of her breasts.

She held you down and you screamed her name.

You worshipped her as she panted and writhed beneath you.

It was only when you had been lying there, half naked and tangled together that something clicked in her mind, her eyes went wide and she rushed to dress herself before running out. You let her be, didn't bother her with a call or a text, she was probably just confused.

But when you found your Washington State hoodie on the kitchen bench because your father had bought it in from the front porch on his way in, you struggled exceptionally not to let the notion break you. You mentioned something about homework and locked the bedroom door, turned on some music and cried to sleep. You didn't eat all weekend, and barely finished an assignment due first day back.

But it was now a week after the life changing..._event_...and now there she was down the hall, laughing with Melissa as if nothing had happened, and talking about the new guy she was flirting with.

Luke or Leo or Louis or something like that. You hadn't paid any real attention to him, other than to decide that you didn't like him. You wanted to be the one to give her the attention. But you knew it wouldn't happen, so you just had to suck it up and deal with your heart being broken twice in less than a month, and sulk off to your next class before a dreaded circle meeting after school.

'All's fair in love and war'. Your newest English paper due in a month, and as soon as you had heard the topic, your gaze had shifted two rows back and three more over.

She turns away. _It was a mistake._

Love sucks, you decide.

/


	9. Chapter 9

/

It's day before she will make eye contact.

Almost two weeks, to be exact. It's her behaviour at your circle meetings that has you drawn to her even more. You can see her taunting you silently, mocking you, and at the same time, taunting herself.

As winter comes closer and closer to an end, even though with the weather in Washington, it's pretty much always cold, your plate is full. Well, a more correct term would be 'over-flowing'. Your grandmother had come to town. You have the relationship with her as Faye did with Henry. Cassie is currently sharing your bed because her own grandmother is out of town.

Your grandmother, the closest thing you have to a mother figure, tried to kill her and you don't want to believe it. You father lets her stay on a more permanent basis, and you fix a fake smile to your face as exhaustion began to nibble at your mind.

So far your sophomore year in high school was going just the way you had planned. You cringed at the thought of everything that had happened. Three dead, several failed assassination attempts, break ups, hook ups, and everything in between.

And it was barely February.

Your nights are once again sleepless, but not for the same reason; you don't want Cassie to find out because you accidently mumbled something in your sleep. It's usually a cold shower that shocks the fatigue out of you in the mornings, and knocks webs of Faye from your mind.

It isn't hard for you to tell that she's falling further off the edge of the cliff she's standing on, and Melissa is getting dragged with her. Only at the school dance, is it when you realise just how far she's fallen, when the school it set on fire because of her craving for power. That was her drug, the same way she was yours.

You felt disappointed that you weren't her drug of choice, and guilty when Adam snapped at her and called her out on everything. You didn't speak up to defend her, but he did have a point.

That's why after you've all been checked out and escorted home by parents, you sneak out which is something you've never been very good at and you're sure that your father knows.

You knock on her bedroom window twice, twenty minutes later.

When the curtain is snapped back, her face is scrubbed of makeup and silhouetted against the window by the small bedside lamp. You silently beg her to open the window; you don't know how long you can hold onto the lattice and you don't know how much longer it will support your weight. Reluctantly she slides the pane up, but blocks your entry.

"Here to yell at me some more? Or maybe you're here to seduce me?" The way she says her words, makes it seem like she's challenging you to make the first move. It's only when you say no that she moves aside, yet makes no attempt to help you in. "What do you want?"

"To see if you're okay."

She glares at you, or maybe it's just your own words, and you hold your hands up in surrender. You make a move to grasp her hand and she shakes you off. There are a few long beats of silence between you, and brown eyes haven't broken away from hazel until she snaps.

"It was a mistake."

Your heart breaks. "No, it wasn't."

She looks at you disbelievingly, and you can read the self-doubt on her face. She may have a facade of confidence and a lack of doubt and worry hidden behind sarcasm and cockiness, but in this point in time, all you could see the cracks in the walls she had built around herself.

"Get out." She warns you to the point where her voice is basically a low growl. You make to protest, but when her next warning comes, you wonder if her mother is awake and knows that your here. "Get out."

"It wasn't a mistake." The doubt flashes across her face before disappearing behind a wall of cold steel. "You know it wasn't, Faye."

Even as she practically forces you out of her second story window and all but slams the pane down behind you, barely missing your finger tips, you don't stop your words. You can't stop you verbal diarrhoea.

"It wasn't a mistake."

You just need to convince her.

"It wasn't a mistake."

And yourself.

/


	10. Chapter 10

/

It scares you a little.

When you see her at school, in the circle meetings she actually makes an effort to turn up at and that seem to be taking up all of your time, at Java Brew or the Boathouse, she looks jumpy and skitterish. She was almost paranoid but still managing to be overly cocky at every possible opportunity. Melissa is looking a little worse for wear and you wonder what the two of them have been up to.

So far she's been very aware of being stick in any kind of close space with you, alone. Despite your efforts, you've so far been unsuccessful to talk to her since knocking on her second story window close to midnight after she nearly burnt down the school.

It is like this every day up until the most romantic day of the year rolls around.

It's the two of you, and Melissa, and for a little while Cassie, chugging back the beers that had been swiped from a parent's fridge and munching on pizza. There was some 'Devil's Spirit' at one point and you thought that if all of you had a little, as well as the alcohol, stepping out of your comfort zone you could forget about your problems for one night.

When you found out that it was this Lee guy was the guy you had kissed instead of the pizza boy, you wanted to throw up. And then you wanted to slap him.

But it was the sight of Melissa on the bedroom floor having a fit was enough to sober you almost entirely.

That leaves the three of you at odds for a few hours as you blame her for the overdose, for introducing her apparent best friend to the drug in the first place. She throws it back on you for ditching the girl when you started dating Adam. And then Melissa chooses you to help her and she is left out.

You can feel her eyes raking over your body four feet behind you after you get off the phone. She's picking at you, wanting a fight. Her earlier visitor seemed to have planted a seed of anger. She was looking for a fight, maybe just to test you, see how much you would rise up to the bait after your confession, that sleeping together wasn't a mistake.

You try to use Melissa as your excuse to leave the room. There is still buzz in your brain, and for some reason you don't fight when she blocks your path.

"Faye," you whisper.

You're practically touching, barely millimetres apart.

"Diana," she breathes out.

You should protest, as she leans in. The idea of giving her space after the whole school dance had been thrown out the window as you get so close you can see how wide her pupils are. Or maybe it had been kicked to the kerb when you dipped your finger into the little baggie of white powder.

It was nothing heated, or desperate, or needy.

It shocks you how different it feels kissing her this time. Just the slower tempo makes every change and you fall just a little further as her tongue slips into your mouth.

You pull back just a little out of breath when there is a small thud from the lounge and you decide that you should check on Melissa. Your hand brushes across her cheek gently, you smile softly and leave the brunette alone with her thoughts.

"I'm done with guys," she mumbles, a few hours later as the three of you are huddled on the couch, nibbling on her finger nails. You can't help but smile and laugh along with Melissa but for completely different reasons. "For now."

Your eyes meet for the first time since your kiss earlier and there is a moment of self doubt. Until a smirk settles on her face and she turns back to the movie. So you throw a pillow in her face and start an all out pillow fight.

By four am, after you've gone through the half a dozen beers and a few shots of tequila, Melissa has passed out from sheer exhaustion, so the two of you left her under a pile of blankets to sleep it off. When you manage to stumble into her bedroom, you basically fall into the sheets. You're ready to fall asleep, when you feel her tugging at the blankets underneath you.

"Trying to get into your bed?" you ask, lifting your hips to let her pull the duvet down.

"It's only fair. You got me into yours." The bed dips to your left and you feel a weight in your lap.

You struggle to contain the smile breaking on your face as your sit back on your elbows, as the fact that she had been the one to initiate it both times. Her hands tickle your sides. Her hair tickles your face as you make out with Faye Chamberlain at four-thirty in the morning.

You find your new favourite position; you're more aware of everything that you're doing, where your hands are, where her hands are.

Even though you know that's she's going to deny that anything like this ever happened between the two of you, and probably ignore you for another few weeks, it doesn't stop you from pulling her closer.

When you wake up the next morning, and it's probably closer to noon, it's because she had shuffled around a little and was watching you sleep with her head in her hand.

"Hi," you mutter, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Hi," she replies, her poker face fixed into place. She's studying you, and it seems unusual for her to be so quiet and pensive.

It scares you a little.

/


	11. Chapter 11

/

You feel like you're floating in limbo.

It's not very comfortable, because it means that you can't say anything when you see Lee spending more time in the picture, and even though you seem to have come to a silent agreement when you knock on her window, or when you have to sneak her into your room so your dad won't hear, it's still limbo and you don't like it.

You want more of her, not just when she wants to give you what she thinks you want.

You'll take it for now, because at least it's something.

And then along comes Grant. He sweeps you off your feet and pays attention to you in a way that you crave. So you give in, only to be proven wrong when you catch him red handed in his desperation to impress. He begs for a second chance at your door and even though you agree, it doesn't stop you from waiting until he's gone before take off again.

That night you're a little rougher than you would usually be, but you don't see or hear her complain.

When you wake up the next morning, you see a text on your phone saying 'good morning beautiful.' You want to smile, but you struggle moving the muscles. You hear the words from behind you, when she rolls over, presses a kiss to your bare shoulder and pulls you closer. You smile into your pillow and shuffle a little further into the fantasy from your wildest dream.

And then you realise where you were and you mutter that you need to leave.

It only occurs to you how much this is turning into that thing you had silently agreed that it wouldn't.

So you confide in Melissa and she tells you to go for it with the boy who wants to make it up to you, and for Faye to go for the guy who practices voodoo and has a craving for power that's bigger than her own.

"When did she become so insightful?" you ask over coffee a few days later. The bite marks on your shoulders and the scratches across your ribs still sting and you can tell that the bruising is going to last a little while.

"After we saved her last week," comes back at you. It's just the two of you left now.

"I'm pretty sure she saved herself." You both agree on that.

"That's explains why she isn't insightful enough." You question her comment. "She has yet to figure it out. It's been over a month. I thought she would have noticed by now."

You chuckle awkwardly, and brush your fingers along her shoulder when you leave. A promise to leave the door unlocked tonight.

And then everything starts to fly by. Blackwell's return. The discovery of a second child within the circle. The information about certain activities coming to light between the blonde and your ex. Your inability to get into the mines. Faye's determination to prove that she was the one with dark magic, only to try and stop a drug dealer on a motorbike, and you having to push her out of the way.

You wanted to yell at her. For being so reckless. But really it's because she scared the ever loving shit out of you and you don't like having your heart in your throat.

You told her so later that night, after Grant had left and you had run from your house after being named the second Balcoin child.

She keeps you distracted by playing with your hands or your hair or forcing you to have a meaningless conversation with her until you fell asleep, your head on her shoulder.

You can't decide what you need to focus on first; the guy you thought you liked left town because you couldn't tell him anything; the man who had raised you from birth wasn't your actual father; you had a sister; you had fallen in love.

You just wanted to disappear, have some time to yourself, but if she wasn't there with you, there was no doubt that you'd probably go crazy.

You told her that, mumbled it really as you hugged her side and tangled your feet together.

She had fallen asleep playing with your hair, but hadn't pulled away in any way, shape or form. An arm around your shoulders, her chin resting gently against your head.

You guessed that you would just have to stay in limbo a little while longer.

You wondered how long it would take before you broke.

And who would be there to pick up the pieces.

/


	12. Chapter 12

/

It's days before it fully sinks in.

You're not a Meade by blood. You're evil and powerful and you want to throw yourself off the nearest bridge. You need to escape, but every time the plans in your head get even close to being complete because that's who you are, the responsible one, the careful one, the one than follows a set of rules regardless of which way your heart pulls you, the heritage that you don't want pulls you back in.

You follow your fathers request, and refuse Blackwell any chance to get closer to you on a one-on-one basis.

You end up snapping at your _sister_ because you just need five minutes to yourself, but you're having trouble finding that. Even though Faye has done nothing but be patient which is more and more surprising, you still feel the weight on your shoulders. No one knows about the two of you, and you beginning to feel the pressure of hiding with everything going on, and then there's Grant who seems like the safe choice.

He gets frustrated with your inability to tell him anything about where you go when you run off, the usually results in you falling into her bed instead of anywhere with him.

You have no idea what's really going on anymore. As soon as your biological father had come back into the picture, he had taken over, everyone trusting him blindly because Cassie was vouching for him. She knew even less about him than the rest of you did.

You end up looking for her family's crystal and the amusement park that's closed for the winter, when it goes missing from the abandoned house. When you all agree to split up, you refuse to go anywhere with Cassie or Jake, adamant about searching with Faye.

As soon as the two of you are alone, your fingers are twisted together while you hunt. Prom crosses your mind, but you ask about her fear of clowns instead, and she shuffles a little closer as you walk through the deserted park.

You find the friend you buried, running from you and killing witch hunters. Everything just got a whole lot more confusing.

Then it's prom. One of those nights in high school that's meant to be the most magical of a girl's life. That's supposed to go something along the lines of the dream boy, the limo, the perfect dress and the matching corsage to go with it.

You actually considered asking her to go with you, as your date. But the fear of rejection and loss of what you already have, stopped you at the last minute. The need to find the final crystal leaves you seeing your mother sixteen years ago, arguing with Cassie, and fighting with Nick. That was the last you saw of her, as you all took off to try and do a million things at once.

You search for your father.

You can't believe what he tells you, about what he's done. It's incomprehensible. They were just as bad each other. You nearly get run over by Grant in the rain. You've barely broken, but you start to and it looks like he's the one to pick you up and put you back together.

When you wake up, against his shoulder a few hours later, you're even more scared.

She's missing.

/


	13. Chapter 13

/

You were running on empty.

You had managed to rescue her, and Jake and Melissa, but barely at the last minute, only to watch your demon infested father declare his love for you and then take a fifty foot dive into the harbour. Her mother was more than accommodating, letting you stay with them as everything gets sorted, but you refuse to let the girl touch you. Anything even remotely close to any kind of contact and you'll break down.

"Make me forget," you whisper. She looks at you with questioning eyes, "Please."

You know that she couldn't say no, if you begged enough, but she seems to be at a loss of what to do. She shrugs off her own jacket, and then yours, pulling your body flush against her own. You head tilts automatically for her until you turn around and take her face in your hands.

Your hands loosely grip her shoulders as she lifts you against the door without breaking your kiss. Her lips travel down your neck slowly and purposefully, forcing you to focus your attention on what she was doing and how you were feeling. You're sure that she's using some kind of magic to hold you up against the door.

Her hands gripped your thighs over the material of your dress, and your heels are flicked from your feet. You feel the muscles in her back tense as she carries you to the bed, without magic.

"Make me forget."

She takes her time, learning every inch of you that she may have missed the first few times considering your haste. It's all different. She's willingly gentle and tender and patient and careful. She's loving, and you want more.

Your dress comes off. She doesn't break eye contact. She hisses when you dig your nails in, because she bit down a little too hard on a sensitive part of flesh. Eventually, you're resting against the cool sheets, as bare as the day you were born.

She makes you forget when she slips two fingers in painstakingly slowly and prolongs your torture. You cup her and mimic her actions, thinking that if she understood your sexually charged frustration, she may hurry up as well.

She slows down and you have to let out the curse that's been building in the back of your throat, followed by the moan at the feeling of her around your fingers.

You flip each other for dominance.

Buck your hips.

Your breathing becomes erratic.

You melt around her fingers. She explodes around yours.

Finally, you dissolve into tears underneath her, and cry yourself to sleep.

She made you forget, just not for long enough.

/


	14. Chapter 14

Okay so this was a little rushed towards the end, I was desperate to finish it because I was heartbroken at the news of TSC's cancellation. I will probably end up writing another longer piece, Fayana of course. Mostly likely some oneshots as well. Feel free to drop me prompts in your reviews and Ill do what I can. Hope you've enjoyed Paradise.

/

"Diana!"

You could hear her scurrying behind you. You had declared your desire to leave town, having seriously considered the offer your safe choice had made. She had looked at you with a hurt look on her face, which you could see even though you refused to look at her directly. It had been less than a six hours since your needy sex, that left you exhausted more than you thought possible. Especially when you dissolved into tears.

You had left the room, and the house.

"Don't you dare leave me here alone!" she warns, across Cassie's front lawn.

You needed space, not just from her, or from the circle and the never ending stream of drama, but from yourself. You were evil, and you never wanted to feel any of it ever gain. Your father has killed your sister's mother, starting this whole domino effect in the first place. You weren't as strong as you thought you were.

"Why not?" you ask, spinning on your heel. You feel like the tears are ready to fall.

"You know why. You belong here. With us." You can see the subtle secondary meaning behind her words, but that's not enough.

"Give me a reason to stay!" you challenge. "It has been one thing after another since the school year started. I can't deal with any of this anymore."

She doesn't rise to your bait, just looks heartbroken as you wait for an answer. You don't get one and your mind is unconvincingly made up. A public declaration from the girl would have been the selling point to keep you in Chance Harbour, but it didn't come.

You walk away from your friends, the only family you have left. The girl you had let yourself fall for.

You pack your things in silence, voices nagging at the bag of your head, telling you that this was a bad idea. Your phone chimes constantly and buzzes often. You ignore it until you can't ignore it anymore.

_'Meet me please. Java Brew, now.'_

It's her.

_'Why?'_

_'I need to see you before you leave.'_

You hesitate. But you agree anyways. Your life is packed into two suitcases, and you hitch a ride with a neighbour into town. As soon as you've convinced her that nothing can change her mind You're barely in the door, wheeling your suitcases behind you, looking for a booth when she bounds up to you desperately.

The entire circle is there, watching expectantly.

"Stay."

"Give me a reason why I should stay," you challenge again. You're in a public place, you expect her to fold.

"Because you belong here."

"You said that already."

"With me."

She pauses, probably out of sheer nervousness, throws a glance at the gang of misfits in the back corner, and kisses you in the middle of the local coffee house. Your bag drops from your fingertips as you tug her closer, purely out of habit, you tell yourself. You hear several loud gasps from the gang. You can practically hear the smirk on Melissa's face.

"Because you belong here with me and because I love you," she whispers, pulling back after a moment. "Stay. I'll do whatever you want, just stay."

You can see the sincerity in her eyes, but only because it's not an emotion that usually comes from the resident bad girl. A tear drops to your cheek, and she gently thumbs it away.

"I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Stay with me," she repeats. "I love you."

You press your lips to hers, and waste no time in deepening the kiss, pouring everything you have into the action. "I love you, too."

"You'll stay?"

You nod. You think you've found your paradise in hell.

/


End file.
